


Tell Me How All This (And Love Too) Will Ruin Us

by ApolloAttraction



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21618175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApolloAttraction/pseuds/ApolloAttraction
Summary: Sometimes it takes time and space to process trauma. Adam has a panic attack and Ronan helps him through it.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 18
Kudos: 176





	Tell Me How All This (And Love Too) Will Ruin Us

Adam’s body reacts before his mind catches up to what is happening. His heart ratchets and slams itself against his ribcage. His chest tightens. Every muscle, one by one, starts to tense.

“Careful!” Ronan shouts, and this too sets off alarms in Adam. “There’s-“

Glass.

Adam blinks at the shattered cup where it lies in the middle of the kitchen floor. It’s the kind of delicate glass that leaves no corpse behind when dropped. Or thrown. Because this one had definitely been thrown. Ronan had flung it down onto the laminate flooring just as Adam had reached the end of the hallway.

The sound of the crash still reverberates in Adam’s ear. Echoing. Familiar- in a way he wishes he didn’t remember.

“Back up,” Ronan says. “You don’t have shoes on.”

Adam steps back.

Ronan sweeps with his head down. He mutters a string of curses about all the tiny slivers of glass. About how they’ll be finding them for weeks. About how at least Opal has hooves, so she won’t get hurt when she comes back from the forest. He dumps the shards into the trash can and props the broom against the counter. “I wasn’t thinking about…” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Adam opens his mouth to say that he was already awake. The words get stuck in his throat, and he sucks in a ragged breath.

Ronan’s eyebrows go up. “Adam?”

Adam tries to speak again, only to snap his mouth shut and shake his head.

Ronan crosses the room in three large steps. “What’s wrong?” He presses his hand to Adam’s shoulder.

Adam flinches hard and squeezes his eyes shut.

Ronan pulls his hand back.

There’s a long beat of silence. Adam stands very still, his whole body bracing itself for impact. His mind is screaming at him that this is _so stupid_. He’s at the Barns. He’s with Ronan, who would never hurt him. But- the noise- it-

“Fuck,” Ronan says softly. “It was the glass, wasn’t it?”

Adam nods and balls his hands at his sides. This isn’t the first time he’s had an odd reaction to something. Things from _before_ lingered in places that Adam didn’t expect. Every now and then they’d stumble across an issue. Flavors, smells, feelings; anything could be tainted by a bad memory. But it was always a _stumble_. A few minutes tripped up by sharp fear or heated anger. Just long enough to recognize what was happening before Adam filed away the stimuli into a neat, little box labeled _to be avoided_ and moved on.

“You’re shaking,” Ronan says.

Adam forces his eyes open.

Ronan is standing in front of him, his hands suspended between them, palms open and fingers spread. “What can I do?” he asks. “What do you need, Adam?”

Adam steps back from him and shakes his head again. _There’s nothing you can do_ , he thinks. This hasn’t just tripped him up; it’s bowled him over. He tries to breathe again, but the air is strangled in his throat. He tries to breathe through his mouth instead, but the breath cracks into a sob. 

Ronan’s face crumples, and he drops his hands.

Adam’s knees buckle beneath him and he slides down onto the floor. Here it is. Here is the moment that ruins them. He’s certain of it. “I’m sorry,” Adam forces himself to speak. Even though it hurts. Even though his throat is tight and the words feel like knives clawing their way up into his mouth. Even though it takes every bit of energy he has, Ronan deserves to know: “It’s not you.” He presses his fists into his knees, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that it hurts. He feels tears slip down his cheeks. “It’s not you.”

Ronan sits down next to him, leaving more than a foot of space between them. “I know.” He presses his hands to the floor. “Fuck,” Ronan repeats and it’s a sad, hopeless sound. “I want to hold you so bad right now.”

Adam wishes that he could let him, but his skin is crawling and he can’t get enough air. It’s _so stupid_ because he never reacted like this when he was at the trailer park. He was quiet, obscure. He took the beatings with lips pressed firmly together because he’d learnt young that if he cried or he begged that Robert Parrish would only hit harder and yell louder. But now… now Ronan wanted to _hold_ him and his whole being was screaming that if _anyone_ touched him then he just might die immediately.

“Breathe, Adam,” Ronan says.

Adam tries. He can’t. Panic is taking up too much space in his chest for his lungs to expand.

“Breathe,” Ronan tries again. “With me.” He takes in a long, noisy breath, then exhales it slowly.

Adam tries to match him, but it’s too difficult.

Ronan keeps breathing the same way until Adam finally breathes with him.

Neither of them tries to speak for a very long time.

Finally, the tightness in Adam’s chest starts to unwind. His shoulders drop as the tension leaves him.

“Better?” Ronan asks.

Adam wipes the back of his hand against his eyes. “Still bad.”

“Can I touch you yet?” Ronan’s fingers twitch against the floor.

Adam takes a deep breath in and catalogues the way he’s feeling. “No,” he says, and the word is coated with shame.

“Ok.” Ronan rests both his hands on his knees. “What do you need?”

Adam keeps breathing. He turns the question over in his mind. _What does he need?_ He used to have answers for that question, but now he had checked off that list. He’s enrolled at Harvard. He lives as much in the dorms as he does at the Barns. He’s with Ronan during every break and most weekends. He makes his own choices, his own mistakes. And yet, here is everything that he left behind, sneaking up on him. “I don’t know what I need,” Adam says, trying not to sound pitiful.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” Ronan says. 

Adam bites the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Cut that shit out,” Ronan says.

“I mean it.” Adam returns. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“You shouldn’t, either,” Ronan answers. “But life’s not fair and I love you.” He lifts his hand, then drops it back down. “And I swear to God when you say it’s okay, I’m going to hold your hand for so long you forget what it’s like to have a hand of your own.”

Adam’s lips quirk up at that. Ronan’s love is a messy, demonstrative thing. On good days, they waltz through the house, arms wrapped around each other. They kiss and cuddle and spend evenings making dinner like Siamese twins with their arms around each other’s waists (even if that means that pasta sauce goes everywhere.)

Adam frowns again. “You shouldn’t have to wait.”

“Adam,” Ronan says. “Waiting won’t kill me.”

Adam tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling. “I’m still s-“

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” Ronan cuts him off.

Adam breathes slowly and reaches out to take Ronan’s hand.

Ronan squeezes his hand. “We’re going back to bed.”

Adam considers this. “It’s almost noon.”

“And?” Ronan shoots back.

“I just woke up,” Adam adds.

“I don’t think you heard me the first time,” Ronan snorts. “ _And?_ ”

Adam chuckles at that. “Fine,” he gives himself a moment, then tests his legs. Thankfully, they’ve regained function and he can stand. Ronan stands, too, but he doesn’t let go of Adam’s hand. He keeps their fingers laced all the way down the hall, all the way into their room. Adam lies back down into the nest of blankets on their bed. Ronan sits on the edge beside him and keeps their hands together.

Adam smiles softly and squeezes Ronan’s hand. “You’re being a little ridiculous.”

“Hey,” Ronan starts, sounding mildly annoyed. “I swore to _God_ ,” He looks pointedly at their hands. “You’re going to have to become a leftie now.”

“I’m already ambidextrous,” Adam tells him.

“Of course you are,” Ronan shakes his head. “What can’t you do, Adam?”

Adam looks away. “I can’t smell burnt toast without getting scared-“

“Hey-“

“And I can’t hear a door slam without flinching-“

“Adam-

“And I can’t hear glass breaking or I-“

“Stop.” Ronan dares to lean over him to meet his eyes. “Stop spiraling.”

Adam laughs. It’s a bitter noise. “I’m not spiraling.”

Ronan leans back and gives him a thin-lipped frown. “Then talk through it; don’t just spout things off like that.”

Adam glares at him for a moment, then tucks his face against the pillows and says: “Lie down with me?”

Ronan lies down beside him and inches close enough that the gap between their shoulders is only large enough to fit their hands. “What are you thinking?”

Adam pulls his hand away and rolls onto his side to look at Ronan. His voice is low and quiet when he answers: “I’m thinking that it may never get better.”

Ronan rolls onto his side to face Adam. “And what else?”

“That I will always be like this,” Adam adds, sinking closer to Ronan and wrapping an arm around his waist. “And you-“ He breaks off and hides his face against Ronan’s shoulder.

Ronan runs his hand through Adam’s hair, dragging his fingers gently down his scalp until Adam sighs against his shoulder. “And I?” he coaxes gently.

Adam hesitates. “You decide it’s too much.”

Ronan pulls Adam closer and hugs him protectively. “You will never be too much.”

Adam makes a noncommittal noise against Ronan’s shoulder.

“Adam,” Ronan says sternly.

“What if I am always _one thing_ away from _that_?” he asks, surrounding the word _that_ with so much distaste that Ronan doesn’t have to question whether he means the break down in the living room or not. “What if- no matter how much you love me, no matter how well I do in my life- I’m never fixable? What if I’m always just…Robert Parrish’s son?”

Ronan doesn’t immediately reply.

Adam presses himself closer, knowing this might be the last time he gets to be held by Ronan. Surely, it’s sinking in now. Ronan’s realizing that he wants more. That he wants a boyfriend who can laugh at the charred remains of toast scattered across the counter while Ronan curses at what seems to be a sentient toaster with a vendetta against him. That he wants a boyfriend who can hear the screen door slam and say _welcome home_ instead of tiptoeing around the corner to check his mood. That he wants someone who can be held, always, and never flinch away from him.

Ronan takes a deep breath and Adam steels himself for what comes next.

“You’re already so much more than _his_ son.” Ronan starts furiously. “You’re _my_ boyfriend, and Gansey’s friend, and Opal’s guardian. But since when have you _ever_ needed to define yourself like that?”

Adam keeps waiting.

Ronan keeps talking. “I don’t want to hear that you’re not _fixable_ because you have never been broken. You are the smartest, most strong-willed person I have ever met and I won’t let you talk shit about yourself.”

“Ronan-“

“I’m not done,” Ronan says firmly. He sets his chin on top of Adam’s head and rests a hand under his pajama top, flat against the small of his back. “You will have a good life. You will be so successful and happy for so long that you’ll forget it was ever any other way. And if you don’t-“ Ronan takes a breath here and runs his hand up Adam’s back. “If you always remember the hard parts, and we keep finding things that hurt you- we will work through it together. I will never burn toast again. I’ll put padding at the top of every door. I will never, ever throw another glass.”

Adam pulls back from Ronan to look up at him with soft, sad eyes. “That’s too much work, Ronan.”

Ronan brings his hand up to cup Adam’s face. “You are worth the work. You have _always_ been worth the work.” He holds Adam’s gaze, then presses a soft kiss against his lips. Adam melts into the kiss and they stay tangled, breathing each other in until they can’t breathe any more.

Adam pulls back first, and the second that they split he presses his face to Ronan’s chest and moves as close to him as possible. His shoulders shudder and he tries to keep the noise that wrenches itself from his throat quiet.

Ronan still hears it. He presses a kiss to the top of Adam’s head. “I love you, Adam,” he whispers into his hair. “And I will tell you that every day if I have to.”

Adam closes his eyes and he starts to cry again.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and inspiration from Richard Siken's poem "Scheherazade" and the one scene in BLLB where Calla breaks a cup at foxway and Gansey compares her to Ronan.
> 
> If you like this fic, you can also read/reblog it on tumblr: https://apolloattraction.tumblr.com/post/189391934082/title-tell-me-how-all-this-and-love-too-will


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